


Stay with Me

by eyessharpweaponshot



Category: The 100 (TV), The 100 Series - Kass Morgan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Doctor Clarke, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Heart-to-Heart, Neighbors, One Shot, Shared Trauma, Strangers to Lovers, Teacher Bellamy, some not a lot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-13
Updated: 2018-12-13
Packaged: 2019-09-17 15:21:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16977075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eyessharpweaponshot/pseuds/eyessharpweaponshot
Summary: Clarke and Bellamy, neighbours and practically strangers in the big city. When Clarke overhears one of Bellamy's nightmares though, it doesn't feel strange to bang on his apartment door at 2:30 in the morning.





	Stay with Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [DeanyBearWinchester](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanyBearWinchester/gifts).



> Fic title is the song ‘Stay With Me’ by the beautiful Sam Smith.
> 
> This fic is inspired by a prompt from my dear friend:  
>  _'Bellamy and Clarke are next door neighbours and one of them keeps waking up hearing the other having bad dreams so they decide to take matters into their own hands'._
> 
> It's also dedicated to her because seriously, I don't know if I would have made it through [Lose You Too](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15648807/chapters/36345681) without chatting to her!  
> So - Happy Christmas, [Izabelle.](http://thetraitorwhoyoulove.tumblr.com) I'll always treasure your support, kindness and beautiful art pieces.

By the time Clarke is putting her key into her apartment door, it’s well after 2am.

Her shift was supposed to end at nine, but then an accident came in for her to scrub in on. As always, the emergency room was overflowing when she was done with that and Clarke stayed to help out and stitch up a few people. She had already worked way past her quota, so what was a few more hours going to hurt?

Collapsing on her couch, she groans with tiredness. Thankfully, she doesn’t have to see the inside of that hospital for another three days. That means catching up on errands and giving her place a good clean.

Being so busy with her job is probably what encouraged her to buy an average priced apartment. It’s nice and she’s made it as cosy as she can for the amount of time she spends here, but considering her background, she could have definitely splurged on one a little fancier if she wanted to - or so her mother likes to remind her when she visits.

She thinks of getting herself something to eat but after working for days in Arkadia General, there’s probably a lot of nothing left in date in her fridge.

'Just go to bed, Clarke’ she murmurs to herself, her voice breaking the silence in her dark apartment. She drags herself from the couch into her bedroom with great effort and tries to ignore the ache in her muscles that comes with standing on your feet in surgery for hours on end.

Without turning on the light, she wiggles out of all her clothes and falls onto her bed in just her panties. She cuddles her pillow, relishing in it’s coldness. It’s the middle of summer and they’re currently in the middle of a heatwave in New York, so even sleeping almost naked isn’t cool enough.

The sounds of cars honking and people talking seven floors down are present but Clarke doesn’t even hear them - she’s so accustomed to it by now. She’s so exhausted anyway that at this point, they’re just lulling her further into a deep sleep.

What does startle her from her peaceful doze is a shout coming from next door. It’s sudden and loud - a muffled name being called and Clarke’s eyes snap open. Clarke knows his voice instantly.

She’s seen her neighbour around a few times, just passing in and out. A polite ‘hello’ here and there and she even borrowed some milk from Bellamy once. It made him her most friendly neighbour - and her most attractive one. Clarke doesn’t have time for friends with her job so she made no real effort to get to know anyone since moving in here, but it’s still nice to know Bellamy is next door if she needs anything.

She’s sure it was him that shouted, but since there’s silence again now, Clarke closes her eyes. Maybe she imagined it.

Their walls are paper-thin so the next time he shouts, Clarke knows she’s right. She lifts herself up onto her elbows and cranes her neck to listen again.

‘OCTAVIA’ a scream radiates through the concrete once more, clearer now. Clarke hasn’t known him to live with anyone and even though she sees girls coming and going every now and then, she’s sure he isn’t dating anyone seriously. Is he having an argument with someone? Maybe on the phone or in person?

Clarke finds it odd at this late hour but still, it’s possible.

‘Please don’t take her!’ He screams again and this time, Clarke is up as quick as a gunshot and no longer tired. In fact, her adrenaline is pumping like she can’t get in there fast enough. Her heartbeat rushes blood to her ears and it pounds as she pulls on one of her baggy t-shirts that she uses when she paints. The shouts continue, louder now and more severe. He’s not arguing with someone - he’s afraid. She knows it by his tone.

In her bare feet, Clarke crosses her apartment floor in a quick sprint, pulls open her door and arrives in front of his one in two strides. She’s not sure if she should be doing this - she barely knows the guy, but she’s panicking. Something is clearly wrong.

‘Bellamy?’ She pounds on his door with her fist and is met by silence. She can’t hear him shouting from here. Tucking her long, blonde hair behind her ear, she tries again. ‘Bellamy?’

Its on the second call that Clarke realises how much her voice is shaking. It takes a few more seconds of pounding his door before she hears his footsteps, heavy and growing louder as he gets closer to the door.

Bellamy opens the door quickly, like he’s panicked himself. He must think something is wrong with her by the severity of Clarke’s knocks. She takes him in as he stands dazed in front of her.

His dark, messy curls are a hot mess on his head and his deep, brown eyes are wide and wild but glassed over from sleep. He was dreaming? That’s what the shouting was? One heck of a nightmare, Clarke imagines.

He’s topless, showing off his sallow skin and pristine abs. His muscled arms are braced against the door and his black boxers are tight against him, but Clarke tries not to look down even though it’s obvious she has already given him a once-over.

He’s panting and a soft sheen of sweat covers his entire body.

It’s warm - but hell, it’s not that warm.

‘Clarke?’ he squints his eyes, totally confused as to why she’s pounding on his door at 2:30 in the morning - in nothing but a baggy t-shirt with her bare thighs peaking out underneath it.

‘Are you alright?’ She hears herself ask, but her voice is shot and she’s not sure why. ‘I heard you shouting’ she clarifies when his face displays more confusion.

‘Oh’ Bellamy rubs the back of his neck, obviously embarrassed now. ‘Sorry, did I wake you?’

‘No not at all, I’ve just come in from my shift. I just thought, you know, are you alright?’ She repeats pathetically, because she feels awkward now. They’re practically strangers and she has no right to impose on him like this or show him this sort of concern. He takes a deep breath and he looks like he’s about to lie to her, tell her he’s fine and brush it off in the way Clarke has known New Yorkers to do - she sees enough of it in her job.

Instead, Bellamy surprises her by opening his door wider, gesturing her inside. Clarke goes carefully, as if he’ll bark at her to get out at any moment, but she starts to relax when he closes the door behind her.

‘Coffee?’ He mumbles, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

‘Sure’ Clarke replies, taking in his well lit apartment. It’s much bigger than hers and has more of a homey feel. It’s a typical boys place though. It’s more like an open plan loft, so she can see his tossed bed at the back of the apartment while his kitchen lies to the right. His bathroom is obviously hidden, with a door leading to it behind the kitchen.

Blankets are messily draped over the couch on the left side of the room, clearly from a night of watching movies in front of the television. His playstation lies just below the TV with wires and controllers in disarray around it and bean bags surround the couch - clearly for his friends. Clarke can’t help be a little envious. She wishes she had the time for socialising like that.

Maybe she would have if she made more of an effort to make friends. Maybe she wouldn’t have to volunteer all her spare time to shifts at the hospital then.

‘So, you’re a doctor?’ Bellamy says as an opening, switching on the coffee maker. Clarke must make a face because she has no idea how he’d know that, so he takes it upon himself to clarify without being asked. ‘I just see you coming and going sometimes in scrubs and you seem to work long hours.’

‘Ah’ Clarke tucks a piece of hair behind her ear out of nervous habit. ‘Yeah, I’m a surgeon at Arkadia Gen.’

‘Wow’ Bellamy raises his eyebrows. ‘Can you even afford a place like this with a pile of student debt behind you?’

As Clarke takes a seat at his island, she rolls her eyes. She hates explaining to people that her parents money put her through med school, because it just makes her sound like a spoilt brat. She’s sick of apologising to the world for having an unasked for advantage with money.

It’s obvious though - this apartment block, although not luxury, is definitely more on the nicer side of places in New York. Many of her colleagues have to slum it for a while because most of their earnings go towards paying back their debts.

She automatically feels ashamed that she could, in fact, be in a much nicer one at the swipe of her credit card. She isn’t about to tell Bellamy that, though.

‘How can you afford a place like this?’ She deflects. Bellamy leans back against his counter, folding his arms in front of him and giving her a smug smirk.

‘I work my ass off.’

‘So do I’ Clarke shrugs, a little defence in her tone.

‘Whatever you say, Princess’ he grins, shaking his head as he turns to get the coffee mugs from the shelf.

Clarke scoffs.

She just came by to see if he was okay, and hell, she didn’t fucking have to. She’s not going to sit here and be insulted about her background when he knows nothing about her. She’s been through more grief than he could probably ever imagine and she certainly won’t feel guilty for getting where she is today. Not when her job is saving people’s lives.

She’s just sliding off the stool to leave when Bellamy turns around. When he sees that she’s leaving, he leans across the island to reach her and his hand falls flat on the granite worktop.

‘Wait’ he says and Clarke snaps her body back around as if he’s pulled her with an invisible rope. ‘I’m sorry.’ Clarke isn’t sure whether it’s the easy energy between them or if it’s the look of desperation in his eyes, but she sits back down. Bellamy gives his head a slight nod in gratitude and goes back to making the coffee.

When they’re sitting across from one another with two steaming cups between their fingers, he talks.

‘What would you recommend for nightmares? In your professional opinion.’

Clarke hums in thought, watching the steam rise from her coffee.

‘Depends on the circumstances. Frequency, length of time they’ve been going on for, past trauma, how they affect the person’s day-to-day life…’ Clarke lists them off. Bellamy takes a breath, looking like he’s questioning whether he really wants to tell her anything.

‘On and off for the last eight years’ he admits, not looking at her at all. Instead, he’s staring at his coffee like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. Clarke watches his face closely, observes the way his eyes flicker and dart side to side like he’s really thinking about what he’s saying. ‘It’s really only affecting me in the past couple of months though, they’re almost every night now.’

Clarke doesn’t respond, she just waits for him to go on and continues looking at him with curiosity.

She notes how normal this is - to be sitting in a near strangers apartment at stupid o’ clock talking about personal stuff. Somehow, it doesn’t feel weird at all. Even though they’re talking about something so heavy when they’ve never really had a proper conversation before this one, it feels so natural.

Bellamy is effortless to be around, it seems - for the first time since she came to this city, Clarke doesn’t feel like she has to be the person she is in the hospital. He’s asking her for a professional opinion but her head isn’t spinning for answers and she’s not determined to reach a diagnosis. In fact, her answers are coming from a place of memory - a place of personal experience.

It’s his energy, Clarke thinks. Despite the asshole in him that apparently likes to simmer above the surface at times, he seems like a good person. He’s also incredibly easy on the eyes but above all else, he does seem like a person who genuinely needs some help. And well, that’s always been Clarke’s downfall. She has this innate urge to protect and help people. It’s why she went into this profession.

It’s not always as great as it seems though, not when she can’t let go of terminal cases or call time of death on a child who she can’t revive.

‘I fall asleep in work sometimes, right there on my lecture desk while my students are taking an exam or reading passages. I almost drove into the sidewalk the other day on my way home from work’ he lists off things himself. Clarke’s heart quickens at the thought of him almost crashing - probably almost ending up in her hospital. Again, it’s another feeling she’s surprised to experience with him. She’s barely been here with him a hot minute.

‘Think you need to talk to someone’ she tells him as she takes a sip of her coffee, relishing in it's taste even though it's about her tenth cup today.

‘I’m talking to you.’

‘Not exactly what I meant, smart-ass’ Clarke smiles, because she means it lightly. ‘Did something happen eight years ago to trigger the nightmares in the first place?’

‘My mom died’ Bellamy says without hesitation, shoving his beautiful dark curls out of his eyes.

‘Oh’ Clarke winces. ‘I’m so sorry.’ Bellamy straightens his shoulders, like the subject is sore for him.

‘Octavia, my sister - she was young, like early teens’ he tells her, circling the coffee cup with his finger. ‘Vulnerable age for such a tragedy, and well - we never had the easiest time with our mother so we were already involved with social services. They were like vultures, waiting for our mother to pass so they could pounce’ Bellamy huffs out a breath like he’s still pissed off about it. Not that Clarke could blame him.

‘They came for you’ Clarke guesses, trying to ignore the way her heart clenches at the sight of that pained look on his face.

‘I couldn’t give a damn about me, they came for her’ Bellamy rubs his eyes with one hand. ‘I told them I could look after her if they just gave me a chance but I was only 16, so they told me I had no way to support her needs.’ Bellamy looks at Clarke now, meeting her eyes for the first time since he started talking about this. ‘I told them I’d been doing it my whole life.’

Clarke’s heart breaks for him. Whatever had been going on with their mother for social services to be involved, it was obviously bad and it’s clear that Bellamy had been the parent in that family dynamic.

She finds herself reaching across the island for his hand, taking it softly enough that he could pull away if he wanted. He doesn't really know her but he accepts the gesture of comfort anyway and his eyes flick down to where their hands lie on the granite. His skin feels warm in hers and she gently runs a thumb across his knuckles as if trying to erase the burden he's carrying.

‘They took her anyway’ Clarke tells him, knowing the truth already and Bellamy just nods.

‘My friend Miller’s parents took me in but I quit school, worked myself senseless to earn enough savings to have in place for her and once I turned legal age, I got her back’ he says after taking a minute to collect himself. ‘I worked three jobs a week and went to night classes to finish my own schooling after that - all the while putting her through education.’

‘That’s amazing’ Clarke says honestly because shit, now she feels guilty for having it so easy in that sense. At that age, when she was drinking and rebelling against her parents and thinking the most important thing in the world was if Finn Collins text her back or not, Bellamy was going through his own version of hell.

‘Wish she seen it like that’ Bellamy mutters, taking a gulp of his coffee. When he sees Clarke’s confused expression, he just shrugs. ‘Told you, vulnerable age for such a tragedy.’ She waits for him to go on, but Clarke imagines it’s not something he wants to talk about in depth yet, despite is admirable honesty up until now.

‘So what’s caused the frequency change of the nightmares? You mentioned you’re having them almost every night for the last two months?’ Clarke asks.

Bellamy sighs deeply before getting up and depositing his empty cup into his sink. Her hand feels lost without holding his suddenly and she misses the feeling - something else to add to the confusion in her mind.

Why the hell does she feel like she's known him forever after just a ten minute interaction? Spinning around, he braces himself with the palms of his hands on the edge of his counter, looking at the floor like it might swallow him. Maybe he wishes it would.

‘Octavia got her sentencing. Three years and to be honest, she’s fucking lucky she just got that’ he eventually says, venom behind his words.

Clarke winces, the sympathy in her heart growing stronger. She doesn’t even want to ask what Octavia did because what does it matter? Her brother gave up everything for her, protected her and worked himself to the bone all for her to throw it away in anger.

‘Can’t get her back this time, can I?’ Bellamy adds pathetically, his voice almost child-like.

That’s what does it for Clarke. She doesn’t even realise she’s walked over and thrown her arms around him until the act is done. She barely knows this man and really, he’s just told her all of this so he could get her professional opinion on what to do about his nightmares.

She can’t help herself, though - he doesn’t deserve this. It takes a few moments before Bellamy responds, closing his arms around her and accepting her embrace. They stay like that for what seems like hours and Clarke almost forgets that she has to pull away until Bellamy mumbles in her ear.

‘I’m going to fall asleep like this’ he half chuckles. She doesn’t blame him, it’s warm and comforting to be in each others arms like this. Clarke jolts back, a little embarrassed as she tucks her hair behind her ear.

Maybe she crossed the line. They don’t know one another at the end of the day and it must have been weird for him - his next door neighbor who he sees once in a blue moon, hugging him in his kitchen after pounding the hell out of his door to check up on him. He must think she’s out of her mind - and to be honest, she feels it when it comes to Bellamy.

‘Sorry’ she smiles sheepishly. ‘I’ll let you go back to bed. But yeah, um, professional opinion - talk to someone. I can get you some names of people I know who are good’ she stutters.

'I don't know if therapy will help at this point' Bellamy rubs the back of his neck, his eyes telling her that he's resigning to a life of internal torture before flicking them back down to his feet.

'It will. Maybe not straight away and maybe it won't erase everything - but it will help. You need to slay your demons when you're awake so they won't be there to get you when you fall asleep.'

'What?' Bellamy's head snaps up and an expression so intense appears on his face that Clarke almost loses herself in it. 'What did you say?'

'My mom used to tell me that - after my dad died. The crash, well - I kept reliving it' Clarke shuffles on her feet and Bellamy's eyes dip in sadness for her.

She can still drift back there if she lets herself - the smell of oil and fuel from the wreckage, her seatbelt refusing to unbuckle, her dad unresponsive beside her.

She felt so helpless, maybe that’s why she became a doctor - so that she’d never feel like that again. When she opens her eyes again, dragging herself from the pit of darkness that she falls down when she thinks of that night, her eyes are teary.

'She dragged my ass the entire way to therapy' Clarke forces a smirk, a half smile for a half joke. For all her mothers downfalls, she couldn’t fault her on this. 'I fought her on it for weeks until I actually realised it was helping just to talk about it. The dreams don't come as often now.'

'I'm sorry about your dad' he says softly, his eyes kind and understanding. Clarke shrugs because she's not sure what else to do. She isn’t used to accepting other people’s symptathy for her loss because she never tells anyone about it. ‘My mom used to tell me that - about slaying your demons. When she wasn’t off her face on drugs’ he adds.

’Let me guess - she went to support groups during her clean spells’ Clarke quirks a brow at him and when Bellamy furrows his and nods, surprised to how Clarke would know this, she continues.

’My mom had a problem when I was younger. My dad was still alive then and he was the one who noticed she had become addicted to her prescription pain killers from her knee surgery. Took a while for her to kick the habit. Lots of support groups - slaying your demons must have been some universal line they said at them.’

Bellamy snuffs out a laugh through his nose, nodding as he takes Clarke in. She’s surprised him, she thinks. He probably thought no problems like that existed in privileged life.

’Did she ever go back?’ Bellamy asks after a bout of quiet. ‘When your dad died?’

Clarke knows what he’s asking - did her mother fall off the wagon like most addicts do when presented with grief. She did, but Clarke can’t bring herself to say it out loud because the truth is, she’s still struggling. She still calls Clarke on her desperate days, begging her to write her prescriptions or just get her some ‘just this once.’

On her good days, she attends support groups and complains about the size of Clarke’s apartment.

'I'll get you those names in the morning' Clarke says, not answering Bellamy and feeling a little bad for it. Turning on her heel, she goes about retreating to her own apartment.

‘Would you…’ he starts when she’s halfway across his floor, so she turns back to see him looking at her with a sheepish look of his own. ‘Would you mind staying here, until I fall back asleep?’

Clarke furrows her brow, wondering why he trusts her like this. Wondering why he’s happy to let someone he doesn’t know stay in his apartment while he falls back asleep. Maybe he sees the same thing in her that she sees in him - a potential friend, someone good.

‘Sorry, no - you’re tired and just in from work. You must be exhausted and you’ve had to sit here and listen to my crap. You barely know me. No, you go and…’

‘Bellamy’ Clarke cuts him off, smiling. ‘Get into bed.’ Bellamy watches her for a minute, probably searching her face to see if she’s joking or not. When he realises that she isn’t, he pushes himself off the counter, makes his way over to his unmade bed and switches off the lights. He settles himself in, probably feeling a little ashamed at his request but Clarke just sits on the chair across from him. She had to move a pile of his laundry first, though.

‘Thank you’ he mumbles after a few minutes in the quiet. ‘Dinner’s on me tomorrow night, if you’re free Princess.’ Clarke smiles, all too delighted of the opportunity to spend more time with this man. She's not even pissed that he's tagged on his apparent nickname for her, considering she fucking hated it when he said it the first time.

‘You got it’ she whispers, watching him doze back off. Thinking back on everything he’s told her tonight, Clarke wonders how she’s gotten this far in life without someone as incredible as him. He’s inspirational, having fought too many demons and problems away than he should have for a man in his mid-twenties. He’s a good person - something that’s hard to find in this city.

Fate has brought them together in the most unlikely way - in a way borrowing milk or exchanging pleasantries in the hallways could never have. He’s shared something deep and personal with Clarke tonight and she’s a little proud of the fact that he saw something in her to make him trust her with all of that. It may have started off with a ‘professional opinion’ but something has shifted between the two of them. Maybe it was Clarke’s hug or the fact that he asked her to stay that did it. Maybe it was the exchange in painful stories or the way he looked at her when he realised she has some demons to fight herself.

Clarke settles herself back into the armchair, wanting to wait a little longer to make sure he’s asleep.

For two strangers in a strange situation, this doesn’t feel that strange at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated. You can find me and this fic on Tumblr if you want to share it and that would just make my day :)  
> [Here's the link.](http://eyessharpweaponshot.tumblr.com/post/181086206429/stay-with-me-just-go-to-bed-clarke-she-murmurs)


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